Are You Coming for Me?
by ChangingTheCircumstances
Summary: A story were Mycroft is informed that Moriarty has kidnapped Lestrade. Has Mystrade, Mormor, and some Shwatsonlock slash. Rated M for language, violence, and some sexual content. Switches between Lestrade's and Mycroft's point of view.
1. Kidnapped

Mycroft sat at his desk rubbing his bleary eyes. After the whole incident with Irene Adler and the H.O.U.N.D.S of Baskerville, he had barely gotten any sleep at all. He got up, ready to finally leave the office, when suddenly his phone rang. Mycroft thought nothing of this for it was not unusual to get a phone call at this hour since he was practically the head of the British government. However, he started to worry when the number came up as blocked.

Cautiously he clicked call and brought the phone up to his mouth. "Yes?"

"Hello again Mycroft," the man said. It was just three little words in a high pitched voice and yet it struck fear in Mycroft's heart, not that he would ever admit it.

Mycroft took a deep breath. This was the last thing he needed. "What has my little brother gotten into this time," he asked begrudgingly.

Moriarty let out a high pitched laughter. "Surprisingly it isn't sweet Sherlock. It's actually a certain Detective Inspector. Greg is his first name I believe."

He froze. Mycroft couldn't move. Slowly, with shaking hands, he sat back down. He didn't cry though he wanted to quite a bit. His eyes burned but there were zero tears. He hadn't cried in years and he wasn't going to start now. Mycroft did have to take several shaky breaths before he was ready to talk again, however. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"Oh come on," said Moriarty in his most playful voice ever. "Just because I call you The Iceman doesn't mean you have to act like one. And you know exactly who I am talking about. DI Lestrade."

Just hearing Moriarty say Greg's name made Mycroft want to snap his neck. Still playing dumb wasn't going to save any one so Mycroft finally asked, "What have you done to him? Where is he?"

"Not too much damage, though it would most defiantly take more than a few weeks to recover, is your answer to the first quesion. I won't answer your second question though. Wouldn't be as much fun," Moriarty replied. Suddenly a scream ripped through the air on the other side of the phone. Mycroft didn't have to be told. He knew it was Lestrade's voice.

Then the call ended.

* * *

><p>Lestrade was tied to a chair in the middle of what looked like a large, empty closet, similar to that of Mycroft's, but it was hard to tell for he could barely see straight anymore through all the pain. However, he could tell that Moriarty was standing a few feet away with Sebastian just a little bit closer. His right shoulder was now broken along with his left hand. His gray hair was also a rusty brown now because of all the dried blood in it.<p>

Moriarty walked up to him then and got right up in his face. His dark eyes wide and dangerous he, with a malicious tone, said, "It seems like the Iceman doesn't care for you as much as I thought he would."

"You . . . don't know him . . . like I do. He will come," mumbled Lestrade through a mouth full of saliva and blood. The taste of iron was filling up his taste buds. He hurt all over too, and though he tried not to show it, Moriarty's remark had hurt whether it was true or not.

"Always the faithful pets of the Homleses brothers. First John and know you," Moriarty smiled wickedly. "Sebastian I do believe he needs another lashing."

Sebastian picked up what was probably a metal tipped whip. Bringing it back in his hand, he let it fly onto Lestrade's side, cutting into his flesh and even nicking the bones.

Moriarty giggled with glee as he watched on while Sebastian simply smiled. Lestrade screamed at the top of his lungs over and over. When he wasn't screaming he was crying so hard that he could barely get any air in to scream the next time around. However, when it looked like he might faint, Sebastian only hit him harder, sending him back awake with another jolt of pain. Through it all, pretty much the same thoughts of 'I'm sorry everybody -, I'll miss you-,' and 'I'm going to die-,' ran round and round in his head. However, the thought that appeared much more often was simpler and even more heartbreaking.

_Please hurry Mycroft._

* * *

><p>However, Mycroft didn't know what to do. This was one situation he didn't know how to approach. He knew, from experience that he wouldn't be able to trace the call. So, he did the next best thing. He called his little brother.<p>

When Sherlock answered it was with his usual air of annoyance as he began to say, "Dear Brother . . . what has-"

But he was cut off. Mycroft did not want to deal with his adolescences today so he simply cut to the point. "Moriarty has Greg."

That surprised Sherlock more than anything in quite a while. He was silent for a moment until he asked, "How?"

And just that word, that small word, sent Mycroft over the edge for he had kept a surveillance on Greg just to make sure he was always okay and apparently not even his own damned secret service could outwit Moriarty. Yet, somehow he hadn't even realized it until his little brother had asked 'how'. So instead of answering the question he simply replied with, "Fuck."

Despite the fact that Mycroft didn't yell or sound harsh when he said the word, it still struck a chord in Sherlock himself because his brother was always the cool one, calm and graceful. He never cussed, well at least Sherlock was pretty sure he didn't.

"Mycroft, there is no need for you to get so worked up-"

"Worked up! Sherlock I am dying here and don't ramble on about how I'm not actually dying. Just think, for once. What if it wasn't me it was you and the person they were beating to death was John!" Mycroft cried out at him. Though really they hadn't told anyone, Mycroft was easily able to deduce how much farther their relationship had gone, even if Sherlock and/or John didn't quite realize it yet.

However, it was apparent from Sherlock's silence that, even though he didn't quite understand it, his feelings had grown over the years. But grown in to what exactly, was the question. "I," Sherlock tried to say but he kinda choked up before he could get anything else out. "We'll talk about this later. Right now we need to find Lestrade. Don't worry, just sit tight and I'll call you when I get something."

"Thank you," replied Mycroft.


	2. Where is Help?

Lestrade's stomach ached in pain and hunger as he wheezed out short, frantic breaths. He was scared, though he would probably never admit it. He had been a cop for quite some time now but he had never felt like this before. However, it wasn't because the Detective Inspector had grown soft, it was because he actually had people who would miss him know. He loved his parents but had become detached over the years. His wife, when he had been married, hadn't helped things either. But then, Lestrade had met Sherlock, and through Sherlock had met Mycroft, the love of his life, John, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson. He had actually found a place he belonged; people who he knew would care for him and him in return. And at the moment, it scared him to death that he might never see them again.

"Quite a mess you're in Greg," Sebastian suddenly said, breaking Lestrade's line of thought, and speaking up for the first time. He had that voice that made you wince. It was harsh and ruff. "I must say you're quite fun to play with though I wish I could have gotten my hands on the elder Holmes."

The thought of this psycho being within a mile of Mycroft twisted Lestrade's stomach into a nasty not. So he spit at him.

Sebastian leapt back in surprise and when he became fully aware of what had just occurred he gave Lestrade swift kick to the groin and knocked him over. The chair fell with him since he was still tied to it.

Lestrade let out a small whimper which was just about all he could manage at the moment while Sebastian walked over to where Moriarty had just waltzed in.

"He spit blood in my face Jim," said Sebastian in a sickly sweet voice that didn't suit him but probably turned Moriarty on. Personally, if Lestrade had had anything in his stomach then he probably would have thrown up then and there.

"Did he know," replied Moriarty in that dangerous tone. He leaned up wards and licked the blood off Sebastian's face slow and delicate while Sebastian bit at Moriarty's bottom lip. "Really, Sebastian we have a guest."

"It doesn't matter; he's a bit tied up at the moment."

"And you know how that turns me on," Moriarty replied.

Sebastian laughed a cold hard laugh and then, with a smile on his face, he walked back over to Lestrade and violently pulled him back up. He then grabbed a needle full of adrenaline and injected it into the Detective Inspector's arm so that he would stay awake and feel everything for his torture time. He then grabbed a scalpel and slowly scraped it across Lestrade's swollen face. It was just barely touching his skin so that it almost tickled. Then with a sudden violence he swung the tiny knife downward into his already broken shoulder. Over the many hours that he had been here, Lestrade's right shoulder had gone numb but with the sudden rush of adrenaline he could practically feel every nerve.

Lestrade screamed, sobbed, and shivered violently all at the same time. Tears fell down his face like a river and they just wouldn't stop.

Mycroft felt worse than he had in a very long time. It was almost like a piece of him was missing and he couldn't find it. His heart ached like he couldn't believe and it didn't make anything better that not only Sherlock was getting nowhere but also Lestrade's family and friends were getting worried. It had only been two days but for Mycroft it felt more like two years.

He was at one of his many homes now, not the flat that he always went to with Lestrade, but a different one. Mycroft felt hopeless, alone, and he hated it.

_ Briiiiing!_

The shock of hearing his phone practically caused him to jump which he never did. At first he hoped it was Sherlock but when he read, 'Number Blocked' he knew exactly who he was.

"Yes?"

"Hello again Mycroft Holmes," Moriarty replied in that sickly high voice.

"Where is he?"

"Always straight and to the point you Holmeses are. Or maybe I should say gay and to the point. Anyway you can't get your Greg back until you give me something Mycroft," he said.

Mycroft sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Why did it take you two days to say that to me?"

"Because I wasn't sure what I wanted yet."

"What is it?"

"John. John H. Watson is who I want," was his simple reply.

"I can't give you John. He's a person and besides Sherlock would never let me," cried out Mycroft who was extremely shocked from Moriarty's demand.

"But would you still trade."

Mycroft was silent for a minute, not sure of what to say. Truthfully he would have traded John in for Greg in a second but not now. Now he had actually gotten to know John. He had become a friend and no matter what his brother would say he would never trust Mycroft again.

"No," was Mycroft's reply. It was shaky but defiant. This was his final answer.

He expected to hear Moriarty but instead another voice came on the line. A voice full of pain and hurt as that voice asked "Mycroft?"

"Greg!" yelled Mycroft out loud as he stood straight up. All he could think was thank good he's not dead. That is until Lestrade replied.

"Did you . . . mean it?"

"Greg I-" he didn't know what to say. How was he supposed to reply to something like that? "I-"

"Oh, times up lover boys!" cried Moriarty as his voice came back on the phone. "And before you say anything else, Mycroft, know that a package will be delivered to your front step tonight."

Once again the phone clicked. But one thing was different this time. This time Mycroft was crying for the first time in several decades as he wondered-

_Have I just got Greg killed?_


	3. Forgiveness?

Lestrade hurt all over as he was literally rolled out of the car, and onto the sidewalk. He was still tied up and it was rather uncomfortable. At first he didn't realize where he was until Sebastian had already pulled him up the steps to the front door while making sure to scrape Lestrade along the concrete as much as possible. That's when Lestrade realized he was in front of Mycroft's flat, or one of them anyway. All the lights were out except for the ones in Mycroft's study.

Sebastian rang the door bell and then ran for it. Mycroft was at the door almost immediately but the car, along with Moriarty and Moran, had already gone. Lestrade could see Mycroft crying as he hugged him close to his body and dialed 999 at the same time. Lestrade felt safe in his arms when suddenly his eye sight started to waiver. He thought back to when Moriarty had injected something else into his veins and how at first he had thought it was more adrenaline. However, Lestrade was quite wrong as his vision wavered and started to swim. His breathing became heavier and his hands started to become limp. Lestrade became frightened, unsure if he was going to die or not.

"Don't . . . leave me," Lestrade whispered as the world went black.

* * *

><p>Mycroft rode all the way to the hospital and when Lestrade was put into the ER he waited outside for several hours. When Lestrade was finally in a stable position and awake the doctors let Mycroft in.<p>

He looked absolutely terrible as Mycroft sat down next to him. Lestrade was strapped up to several different machines and already had his hand in a cast and his shoulder too. He was all black and blue also with a swollen right eye.

"How are you feeling?" asked Mycroft as he sat down next to him.

Lestrade didn't turn around despite the fact that his lover was finally next to him. He also stayed so silent that if his eyes hadn't been open Mycroft would have thought he was asleep or even dead if not for the heart monitor by the bead.

"Lestrade?" questioned Mycroft carefully.

"Did you mean it?" replied Lestrade finally. He still didn't turn towards Mycroft however.

Mycroft didn't know how to respond exactly so he replied with, "I can't trade one human life for another, and you know that."

It was a true enough answer but Lestrade didn't answer at all while Mycroft was there the rest of the day. When Mycroft got up he asked if Lestrade needed anything and if he wanted him to stay but he didn't reply. After saying goodbye, Mycroft slowly walked out of the building with a heavy head and a broken heart.

* * *

><p>Lestrade knew that giving Mycroft the silent treatment wasn't going to help either one of them but he just couldn't forgive him for what he had said so easily. It hurt him more than all of the torture techniques that Sebastian and Moriarty had done to him. It hurt more because this wasn't his body getting hurt. It was his heart.<p>

Still, he didn't know how to tell Mycroft how he felt about what he had said. The rest of that night he thought troubled thoughts and when he finally fell to sleep he dreamed equally troubled dreams.

* * *

><p>Mycroft called up his brother to tell him about what had happened.<p>

"I don't see how I could help," replied Sherlock. "I'd just be happy with the fact that his head wasn't blown off."

"Sherlock," Mycroft warned. This wasn't exactly what he had meant when he had asked for some brotherly advice.

"My point is, Mycroft, is that he is obviously mad at you about what you said and that you should be forgiving and be happy that he is able to feel anything for you at this moment," answered Sherlock.

Though Mycroft hated when his brother was right over him, he couldn't help but hand this one over to Sherlock. Mycroft thanked him and then set the phone down. He thought hard about what he could do but wasn't sure of how to approach the situation. Finally, he decided to visit Lestrade the next day and bring him something. Mycroft wasn't sure what he was going to bring him yet, just something that Lestrade liked.

_Maybe some flowers_, he thought to himself.

* * *

><p>In the end he had bought some purple orchids. Lestrade knew that he hated them and didn't find them pretty at all but if Lestrade liked them Mycroft would try. At about nine o'clock in the morning he got into one of his black limos and drove towards the hospital that they were keeping Lestrade at. At first he didn't realize anything was wrong until he walked into the building.<p>

Sherlock and Dr. Watson stood next to each other while they argued to some point with one of the nurses at the front desk. Mycroft walked over and tapped Watson on the shoulder.

The poor doctor nearly jumped several feet into the air. "Mycroft!" he cried out. "Don't do that to me."

"Sorry," Mycroft replied. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you and my dear brother here?"

It was obvious from his eyes that Watson didn't want to answer the question not because he didn't know the answer but because he knew it all too well. "Um, well . . . I think you should talk to Sherlock about that. Sherlock?" John said while grabbing Sherlock by the arm and swinging him around to face his older brother.

However, Sherlock didn't say anything and it honestly looked like he would rather not to.

"Sherlock," Mycroft cautioned with a threatening glare.

"They're gone. All gone," he said as if that answered Mycroft's question and really it kind of did but Mycroft still wanted a proper answer so finally Sherlock answered. "They're all gone, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Molly. Just vanished out of thin air, or so I've been told. Obviously they've been taken though."

"By who?" asked Mycroft with terror clear in his voice.

"Well, who do you think," Sherlock replied. "Moriarty of course."


	4. Broken

Mycroft didn't know what to say or do. It was like his whole world was crumbling down around him and all he could do was watch. Before he had met Lestrade or had gotten so involved with his brother's life again he would probably never have worried about hostages. Now the thought of all those innocent deaths if he didn't stop this, especially Lestrade's, plagued his mind.

* * *

><p>"Why are you doing this?" whispered Lestrade. His wounds, which had been stitched up just a few hours ago, were already open and bleeding again. He didn't know what was going on or why the others were there but he wished he could do something.<p>

Moriarty smiled. "Because I simply can. If I thought it would make things more interesting I would have shot you right know. However, this is much more fun and amusing."

Sebastian sat in a corner with a rifle under his arm. He hadn't said anything in quite a while but as Moriarty said this he gave a smile that looked just about as psychotic as Moriarty's.

* * *

><p>Mycroft was contacted a week later by Sherlock. Apparently he found everyone, alive, in an abandoned building near the outskirts of London. At first Mycroft was overjoyed at hearing this but he stopped when Sherlock said there was more. Afraid of what words Sherlock could speak next he cautiously asked, "What's wrong?"<p>

"The others are fine. Almost completely unharmed except for malnutrition. You see its Lestrade," Sherlock replied hesitantly.

"What? What happened to him?"

"The ligaments in his right shoulder and elbow have been torn. Something was also done to his eyes too. Mycroft, I'm so sorry but, I think he's become entirely blind."


End file.
